caught alive together

I like to prowl ordinary places.
I feel sorry for us all or glad for us
all
caught alive together
and awkward in that way.

there’s nothing better than the joke
of us
the seriousness of us
the dullness of us

Charles Bukowski

Photo Calle Sta. Eulália, Mérida

Neither map nor discipline

To help us seek duende there is neither map nor discipline. All one knows is that it burns the blood like powdered glass, that it exhausts, that it rejects all the sweet geometry one has learned, that it breaks with all styles.

Federico Garcia Lorca

From Theory and Play ( Function ) of the Duende

Para buscar al duende no hay mapa ni ejercicio. Solo se sabe que quema la sangre como un tópico de vidrios, que agota, que rechaza toda la dulce geometría aprendida, que rompe los estilos…

Federico Garcia Lorca

Teoria y juego del duende

It makes me realize that I will most probably not find it. I just pretend.

Photo by C.

Au noir – Cinematic inspirations

Ascenseur pour l’échafaud, 1958

ascenveur

Les Amants, 1958

Amants

Les liaisons dangereuses, 1959

liasons3

La Notte, 1960

la notte2

Jules et Jim, 1962

jules et jim

Eva, 1962

3.3

eva-1962-001-jeanne-moreau-stanley-baker-bar-00o-192

La baie des anges, 1963

jeanne-moreau-style-bay-of-angels-6-e1331577009996

jeanne-moreau-style-in-bay-of-angels-e1331578608981

baie 3

Claude Mann (Jean Fournier) et Jeanne Moreau (Jackie Demaistre)

jeanne-moreau-bay-of-angels-e1331621617217

baie1

 

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The cliché is that life is a mountain.

You go up, reach the top and then go down.

To me, life is going up until you are burned by flames.

Life is an accomplishment and each moment has a meaning and you must use it.

Life is given to you like a flat piece of land and everything has to be done.

 I hope that when I am finished, my piece of land will be a beautiful garden, so there is a lot of work.

 

jeanne

 

Photos via

The Red List

Vogue UK

Classiq

New Wave Film.com

References

Like Acting and Loving, Honor suits Jeanne Moreau

 

 

 

No one thinks he’s going to die in the mirror. But sometimes it happens.

Narcissus

Once I was half flower, half self,

That invisible self whose absence inhabits mirrors,

That invisible flower that is always inwardly,

Groping up through us, a kind of outswelling weakness,

Yes once I was half frail, half glittering,

Continually emerging from the store of the self itself,

Always staring at rivers, always

Nodding and leaning to one side, I came gloating up,

And for a while I was half skin half breath,

For a while I was neither one thing nor another,

A waterflame, a variable man-woman of the verges,

Wearing the last self-image I was left with

Before my strenth went down down into the darkness

For the best of the year and lies crumpled

In a clot of sleep at the root of nothings all

Alice Oswald

Post inspired by Eduardo Lourenço’s interview (in Portuguese)

Photo: Me, myself and I by F.M.